


Wheat from the Chaff

by SamCyberCat



Category: Layton Kyouju Series | Professor Layton Series
Genre: Adopted Children, Angst, Attempt at Edgy, Dark, Drug Dealing, Edgy, Found Family, Gen, Not how I'd characterise the Black Ravens these days lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26795842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamCyberCat/pseuds/SamCyberCat
Summary: As Crow gets older, he decides to move his business to London and has to take more and more drastic approaches to meet the demand of the market there. Originally written in 2011. Discontinued.
Relationships: Crow & Hershel Layton, Crow & Scraps (Professor Layton)
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This one was definitely an attempt to be edgy. I've included both the first chapter (which really should've stayed as a oneshot) and also the second chapter, that was going to become a series, but didn't happen, for the curious.

Crow hasn't been born into a rich family. Working-class at best. They get by all right, even after his dad gets laid off his job at the factory. But they never particularly have any extra luxuries in life.

So from a young age, Crow learns that if he wants any extras in life, then he has to work for them himself.

And, all things considered, he thinks that he does a pretty good job of it. By the time he's in his early teenage years, Crow has organised the other kids in the area - also the products of workers laid off from the factory - to run a black market. They find rubbish, polish it up and sell it for a high price to too trusting buyers. Maybe if those buyers stop and think about it for long enough, they might realise they're getting ripped off, but Crow keeps them interested with stories of the Black Raven.

The Black Raven is his creation and one that he's most proud of. The other kids, as well as himself, all don the costume and create the illusion of this elusive Black Raven, a being so hard to catch, who only picks out the worthy among the citizens to be led to the Black Raven's den in order to bid for their wares.

By 'worthy' they mean suckers.

Though that isn't always the case. The Black Ravens bring Hershel Layton and his merry band to Crow on one occasion. That man is definitely not a sucker, figuring out and revealing the Black Ravens' ploy based on what he's seen of their actions. Crow hopes very much to not have to cross swords with him again on bad terms.

The years go on and eager teenagers become young adults. They're not all as interested as they once were. Roddy has always viewed his task of guarding the entrance to be such a pain, so it isn't surprising when he decides to drop out. Doesn't matter though, it filters the wheat from the chaff, as Crow puts it.

Crow's putting forward a lot of view points these days. Because Misthallery is a small town and everyone knows their name by now. There's no element of surprise in the Black Ravens anymore and the potential market in a small town is ultimately, well, small.

He's got ideas, though. Big talk to move the business to London. There's more people there, more suckers to sell to.

So he confronts the other Black Ravens, telling them of his plan. They're all adults now, so there's nothing stopping them from moving away from home if they want to.

The results are… less positive than he wants. Marilyn flat out refuses, which doesn't surprise him too much. She's always been very keen to carry on her parent's work running stalls in the market and moving that far from home would go against her wishes. What does surprise him is that Wren and Socket don't want to go either. The two siblings always seem like they want to see more of the world and get away from a cramped village where they spend their days doing little more than arguing with each other. But when push comes to shove, they ultimately decide to stay at home. Crow can see the looks of apology in their eyes and tells them not to worry when the time comes for the remaining Black Ravens to go. He promises them that they'll get by fine without them.

So as they leave Misthallery, their numbers have been reduced to five, including Crow himself. The others who come with him are Louis, Scraps, Gus and Badger. The wheat that remains now that the chaff has been brushed off.

Or that's what Crow thinks at the time, anyway.

They set up shop in London. Between them, they have enough money to run a small place and they get by, though they're never well off. Sometimes they have to skip a meal or two.

The lack of an audience in London catches Crow off guard, too. He's always viewed London as being a larger collection of fools all waiting to have their money taken from them, but now that he's here, he realises that he's just one more con-artist among a set of hundreds of others. People in London don't need expensive knick-knacks and they're all too busy running about their lives to play the Black Raven game. So the con falls flat.

It hits them all hard when Gus says that he's leaving. Tells them that he's sick of just getting by, and especially sick of missing meals when he could easily go back home and have a better way of life.

Crow doesn't answer, he just watches him walk out of the door.

But Gus's words do get him thinking. He's never wanted to be like his old man and 'just get by', so he needs to up the game a lot to meet with London's demand. He sends the other three out to find out what it is that London wants – what sells here.

It's Badger who comes back with an answer. He says that the audience of fools they had in Misthallery is still present in London, but they've been looking in the wrong place. It's not tourists looking for novelties they should be aiming at, it's the masses of people who live on Government benefits and spend their days drinking themselves into oblivion. The wasters. Now there's a word to add to their vocabulary.

So, to sell to these people, they need to be selling booze. They can buy it cheap and market it as something fancy, in the same way they sell junk as antiques.

At this point, Crow can see the look of disgust on Louis's face. The other boy doesn't like this idea, tells them that he thought the Black Ravens had higher standards than that. So Crow challenges him to point out how this would be any different to what they've been doing all along.

Louis answers that no one gets hurt when they sell junk and Badger cuts in to say that they're not hurting anyone by selling them alcohol either. But Louis isn't done get, claiming that he couldn't in good conscience sell something that he knows a person could use to hurt themselves.

To finish the argument, Crow states that if Louis has such a strong objection to their business, then he can leave.

And Louis does leave.

Only three of them left now, the best wheat of the bunch.

They get a leg in the door easy enough with this market, importing cheap brands of drinks from the docks and repackaging them to sell at a higher price. People buy it too. They never stop to think that they could get exactly the same thing for less than half the price at a store, because they like the thrill of sneaking into a back alley and confronting the mysterious Black Raven, then leaving with their prize.

Finally, they have enough money to be comfortable with their lives.

It all goes very well until one day Crow, dressed in the Black Raven cloak, is confronted by one of the lowest looking pieces of scum he's met so far. A middle-aged man who reeks of urine and ale, grunting at him through heavily-chapped lips. The man says that the fancy Black Raven's booze is all very good, but he wants something stronger. At first, Crow is thrown, he tells the man that he can get stronger drink if he wants it and the man just laughs at him and leaves.

What could he have possibly meant?

Crow leaves this question with the other two, carrying on his work in a distracted way. Days go by, until finally Scraps races back through the door, as fast as his tiny legs can carry him. He's panting heavily and looks panicked, though there doesn't appear to be anyone chasing him. When the other two ask him what's wrong, he pulls out a small container.

This, he claims, is the hard stuff. This is what the man wants. They could make a happy profit selling alcohol or they could sell this and be rich beyond their dreams if they were sensible about it.

Scraps tips the white powder out onto the table and Badger gasps when he sees what it is. He rounds on Scraps, yelling that they don't need this sort of thing, and then he turns to Crow and demands that their leader backs him up on this. But Scraps also wants to get his word in, saying that with this, the Black Ravens could be something impressive, like they had been back at Misthallery. Or, you know, they could just carry on being comfortably well off and never really making a name for themselves.

Though Crow hasn't said a word throughout the discussion, Badger reads into his silence. He insists that he was willing to back Crow so far because nothing they've done has been illegal, but if Crow so much as considers this, then he can count Badger out.

Silence, as Crow continues to look at the powder on the table. He knows of this stuff and would never be dumb enough to take it himself, but do people from the bleakest parts of London really pay all that much for it…?

Seeing the look in Crow's eyes, Badger throws his hands up in the air. Claims that he doesn't want to be part of this anymore and hopes that the two of them see sense before it's too late. The door slams on his way out. There have been a lot of doors slamming from previous Black Ravens these past few months.

So it comes down to him and Scraps. And Crow doesn't say it out loud, but he has to admit that if he ever thought about all of the Black Ravens storming out on him save for one, then the one left probably wouldn't have been Scraps. But this is how it's gone down and he's happy to know who his truly loyal friend is.

Ignoring the loss of Badger, Crow asks Scraps where he got this and if he could get more. The answer is that he 'found' it unattended at the docks and if it sells as well as they think it will, then he could easily get more.

And boy does it sell.

They don't even have to market it that much, the people come when they know that the Black Raven has it and they definitely want more. The demand for the substance is impossible to satisfy, with people turning up at the den all hours of the day, shoving bigger and bigger wads of cash into Crow's hands just to get more. They're addicted and therefore the perfect market to manipulate.

They reason that they're playing it smart, that they're probably not the only people in London to be selling this stuff anyway, and that they won't get caught. But the operation gets bigger. The demand outweighs the supply and sometimes they just can't give the people what they want.

On one such occasion, they have to turn away a regular customer, a man with beady-eyes who looks like he used to be pretty large but lost a lot of weight over a small space of time. This guy doesn't take it too well, yelling that he'll fetch the pigs if they don't give him some.

Crow just laughs and dares him.

Crow can see Scraps shaking as the man darts off and he tells him not to worry about it. A person like that will never go to the police, since he'll have to explain how he knows about the business in the first place and he looks too obviously like a junkie. They'd arrest him before they even thought about coming here.

But it appears that the man's either not as smart as Crow or just plain lucky, because within the day, there are men in uniforms hammering on the door.

They've got the door barricaded as best they can and they need to leave, but there's way too much stock that'll be lost if they abandon this place. Scraps is yelling, loud enough for the guys outside to hear, saying that they could easily restock if it comes to it, but they can't do very much from a prison cell.

Unfortunately, Crow has to admit defeat. He grabs as much as he can carry in his arms and scrambles out of the back window with his partner in crime. Thankfully, the neighbourhood is boxed in and complicated for a stranger to navigate, so the police haven't found their way to the back of the house yet. They cover the distance of a few streets, before they hear the sounds of footsteps following them.

If they can make it to the harbour, then they're free. There's no way they could be tracked among that throng of people. But the ground is still muddy after an evening's rain and Crow finds himself tripping over a hidden bump in the road.

Their pursuers are closing in on him now.

He yells out to Scraps, who's still running. He thinks that Scraps might not have noticed that he's been left behind yet.

But Scraps looks back. The boy sees Crow lying on the floor, and then looks past him to see the horde of officers not far behind. He turns to carry on running. Abandoning Crow.

Crow is all alone now, the last remaining member of the Black Ravens.

Perhaps it's the numbness of that sudden realisation that stops him from getting up, but he would have never made it very far even if he had. The next thing he knows, he's being pinned to the floor by several men in blue.

The one who he assumes is their pack leader, a dark-haired, moustached man dressed in green, gives them the order to keep him down. Crow envies this man for having a following so eager to listen to his orders. Once Crow had a following like that too, but maybe he's made a few too many bad decisions. So now it's just him.

He can just about hear the man talking about how it's about time they've caught this one. From the way he's going on, Crow assumes that usually this person handles much more high-profile cases than this and he doesn't like being reduced to chasing dealers, but he's happy to catch the criminal all the same.

Then he hears more footsteps running across the murky path. For a moment he hopes that Scraps might have come back for him, but he soon sees from the legs that this new figure is too tall to be Scraps and loses hope.

It seems that the new guy and the green-suited officer are familiar with each other and they're talking in hurried words. He thinks that this guy is trying to defend him, but it's getting harder and harder to make out what they're saying. Perhaps it was the pressure from the men holding him down, perhaps it was the shock of being completely left by his friends, but all Crow knows is that he's got blotches in his vision and he doesn't feel with it right now.

His defender by his own assumption is bending down now, talking to him. Crow can see who this guy is for the first time and he wishes that he couldn't.

Not him. Not here. Not now.

How dare that kindly man in his top hat, solving whimsical problems for the world around him, dare to look upon Crow in this state. Crow sees the look of concern in Layton's face and he hates it. The man's mouth is opening and closing, but for all he's saying, Crow only makes out one thing:

"It's going to be all right."

Then he blacks out and knows no more.


	2. Chapter 2

When Crow finally greeted reality once again, he was confronted by a warm-looking room containing plenty of shelves, that were stocked to the bursting with curious knick-knacks and fossils of various shapes and sizes, instead of the cold, grey walls of a prison cell that he'd thought that he'd find himself in. That much at least was an improvement to his expectations.

What he wasn't quite sure he was ready to face just yet, was the person sat on the chair next to his bed, regarding him with interest while stirring a cup of what Crow presumed was tea.

Hershel Layton.

Rubbing his good eye, Crow pulled himself up into a sitting position and tried to take in everything around him silently.

Sensing that Crow wasn't going to break that silence, Layton instead began the conversation with an obvious, "I see that you're awake."

"Bloody well hope I am, because this isn't what I pictured Heaven to look like," Crow replied. Not that Heaven was the place he expected to go when he died, if he went anywhere at all.

"To each their own," Layton hummed, "I suppose you're wondering how you got here."

"I haven't had a chance to wonder very much yet, really. But now that you mention it, you might as well tell me what's going on," said Crow.

"You were very nearly arrested," Layton informed him, "Inspector Chelmey had been on the hunt for your… business for a few weeks now. And the more information he received about the case, the more familiar I felt you were starting to sound."

"And how come the police were telling you their info?" Crow asked.

A chuckle; "I have often helped Scotland Yard with their enquiries. It isn't unusual for the Inspector to ask my opinion on cases. And although it has been quite a few years since I saw you last, when he described a tall, cloaked figure in a plague doctor's mask, you were the first person to come to mind."

"So you got me. Why am I not in prison?" growled Crow.

"That would be my doing. While your crimes should not be pardoned, I explained my familiarity with you to the Inspector and he has agreed, for the moment, to allow me to monitor you at least long enough for you to explain yourself to me. You must understand that this is a considerable stretch of faith on Chelmey's part and he puts his career on the line by doing so, therefore I should hope that you won't be wasting his time," answered Layton.

"You know what I was caught for?" Crow checked, "Drug smuggling. Why would you think I'm anything other than scum?"

"Because once upon a time, you helped me save Misthallery from Descole and I would not want to see you locked away without first giving you a chance to defend yourself," said Layton.

"You're wasting your time then. I was selling drugs, I'm a dealer," Crow told him.

"And why were you doing it?" was all Layton asked.

"Because…" Crow mumbled, looking away for a moment, before summing up his thoughts in his head and looking back at Layton, "…Because that's what London wants. We started out trying to do what we did at Misthallery, but no one here cares about trinkets and junk. They want something that'll make them forget they're nobodies living in London. So I sold them drugs and alcohol, because that's what London wants to buy. It's a horrible place."

He could see Layton visibly twitch at the insults towards the fair city and got some satisfaction out of it.

"There are… many jobs here that would not require you to do anything illegal," Layton challenged.

"For qualified knobs, maybe. But not for kids from the country with hardly a penny to their names," argued Crow.

Layton hummed in a way that left Crow unsure if he was denying or agreeing to his claim, and then altered the subject, "Speaking of kids, what became of Scraps?"

"I don't know, he ran off just before I blacked- …Why are you just asking about him and not the others?" Crow questioned, suspiciously.

"Because I've spoken to a few of your Black Raven friends and he is the only one not accounted for," said Layton.

"They're not Black Ravens and neither are they my friends!" Crow spat.

"Now, now, that's unfair. They've stood by you for a lot of yea-"

"They didn't stand by me! Don't talk to me as if you know them! They abandoned me one by one as I tried to make a better life for them!" shouted Crow, "And I don't want to hear anything about them!"

"You should calm yourself, young man," replied Layton, "It certainly is a shame that you don't want to hear from them, seeing as they were all quite interested in what had become of you when I spoke to them last."

Crow snorted, "They still give a damn after what Badger's probably told them?"

"Badger had informed them about what you and Scraps were planning, yes, but given the point in time that he says that he left, he could not claim to know if you went ahead with the plan ultimately. He had faith that you would come to your senses in the end," Layton said.

"Well, he's wrong," Crow muttered.

"I don't believe it's the end yet," corrected Layton, "There's still time for you to fix your mistakes and go back home to-"

"Don't you get it!" Crow yelled, further annoyed by Layton's lack of reaction to his outbursts, "I left Misthallery because I didn't want to be stuck out in the country where you can never make a name for yourself. The Black Ravens deserve better than that! We… I deserve to be here in London, where all the best businesses are. And I'm not going to be carted back off to Misthallery because that's where your snobby society thinks I should be!"

"I'm sorry to have implied that you will be sent back home against your will," Layton said, still looking infuriatingly calm as he sipped his tea.

"It's Misthallery or prison, right? And you love happy endings too much to see me go to prison," Crow retorted.

"Where you go is your choice," Layton answered, "Though it would be unfortunate to see you arrested for this, yes."

"So what now?" Crow demanded.

"Now, I would invite you to talk about your ordeal, so I have a better picture to present to the Inspector upon what it is you have done and why you have done it. But, as you have so directly pointed out, I cannot force you to do anything. If you do not provide me with anything, however, I will have to make my own deductions based on what your former friends have told me and what was found at the place you were staying," Layton clarified.

"Yeah, well, I doubt you're going to let me leave the house anyway, so I don't see the harm in listening to any questions you've got," Crow stubbornly replied.

"That is considerate of you," said Layton, "And I must start this with something that is unfortunately insensitive. As I've already said, upon becoming suspicious about the identity of the smuggler, I went to Misthallery to question the other members of your gang – all right, former members," Layton corrected, as he saw Crow make to protest, "But when it came to character references for you, they were the best informants that I came across. That is to say, I could not find signs of any family of yours…"

He trailed off, waiting for Crow to take up the explanation.

Frowning more definitely, Crow stared at the wall to avoid having to look at him; "What impression did you get from us all when you first met us as kids, Mr. Layton? I know you're a smart man."

"Well, I was surprised and impressed to see a group of you working on such a well-formed business together at such a young age," Layton answered, "Of course, it was quite clear to tell, and some of you were rather vocal about it, that none of you came from particularly wealthy families. I believe that a few of you at least had parents who worked in a factory before being laid off."

"You're right," Crow muttered, not revealing anything more.

"Would it be safe to assume that your family are no longer around?" Layton asked.

"I'm not an orphan, if that's what you're getting at. I had parents. They were not bad, as far as parents go. My dad was stupid; he was fine with just sitting on his arse and managing to just get by in life. But my mum was smart, so she left when the going was good," said Crow, still not looking at him.

"I'm very sorry to hear that," mumbled Layton.

"Don't be, I'm not. It was good for her," Crow replied.

"What became of your father?" Layton cautiously enquired.

Crow looked back at him now, grinning in an unsettling manner; "You want to try to find him to see? You want to try to track him down to tell him that his little boy has been selling dope on the streets of London? Maybe he'd be proud. Maybe he'd punch you in the face for even suggesting it. I don't know and frankly I couldn't care any less."

"Very well," concluded Layton, before moving on, "So, assuming you get cleared of this charge, what is it that you intend to do?"

"Firstly, I won't get cleared. But if I did… if I did…" Crow trailed off, looking thoughtful.

"You haven't considered it, have you?" Layton checked, and when Crow's silence answered that question for him, he went on, "Given that you don't want to return to Misthallery and have no immediate family to stay with in London, that severely limits your options."

"I'll think of something, I always do," argued Crow.

"Perhaps in this case, you won't have to. As I may have already come up with another option for you," said Layton, getting to his feet.

"Where do you think you're going?" Crow demanded.

"I need to talk with the Inspector once more," said Layton, placing the tea cup down and turning to head towards the door.

"You can't just leave," Crow protested, "You said you wanted to talk with me about what happened and you've barely even touched upon the drug dealing. How can you come to any conclusions like that?"

Layton did not turn back to look at him, but replied, "I am glad to hear that you are willing to tell me about what you were doing and, most certainly, I want to hear your side of the story in full. However, throughout this conversation, you have been very forthcoming about how you were selling illegal substances. You never made any attempt to hide this fact. And I appreciate that, because if you had done, it would have completely contradicted all of the evidence we've found thus far and I would be forced to deem you as a liar. As things stand, I think that I can help you."

"No! I don't need your help!" yelled Crow.

"Regardless, I am going to go through with my plans. You can adjust your earlier assessment, as your options are now either me or prison," said Layton, walking towards the door, "Should you try to leave while I am gone, then you will have to deal with the wrath of my housekeeper, Rosa. Should you harm the lady then, as a gentleman and a friend of hers, I would wish you the utmost luck in never being seen by me again."

Was that a threat?

Although a few retorts sprang to Crow's mind, he instead opted for watching at the back of Layton's head as the man left the room. He continued to stare at the closed door as Layton's footsteps disappeared down the corridor. There was a pause and a muffled conversation with a woman, who Crow presumed was the aforementioned Rosa, then he heard Layton leave the house and get into a car. After the sound of the engine had disappeared, he settled back down in the bed.

Now that he was more aware of it, Crow could hear the pottering about of the housekeeper. She sounded not all that far off. While he figured that she was probably curious about him, she didn't disturb him and Crow was content just to stay where he was and let her get on with her work. Perhaps if he'd been feeling more rebellious, he might have tried to leave the room, but the bed was warm and comfortable, combined with how drained the conversation with Layton had left his already tired state. Every part of his body screamed that it wanted him to stay here at least long enough to get some proper rest before acting on anything.

And a tiny part of his mind was fixated on the fact that his options were Hershel Layton or prison. Layton was a good man and, through his limited experience with him, Crow had no reason not to trust him. He was more than slightly confused over why Layton would go to any sort of lengths to try to help him, but he was the only person who had offered Crow a hand since he'd arrived in London.

It couldn't hurt to at least see what Layton was planning.

That was Crow's reasoning as he allowed sleep to take him once more. A natural sleep this time, one that his body could truly rest from.

He assumed his rest hadn't lasted for much longer than a few hours, as it was still reasonably light outside when he woke up. This time he felt much better about the situation, since he awoke knowing exactly where he was, if not what was going to happen to him in the near future.

The main difference from when he'd woken up before was that the chair by his bed was unoccupied. After several minutes, no one revealed themselves and Crow couldn't hear any signs of the noises the housekeeper had been making from earlier anymore. His curiosity caught up with him enough for him to pull himself out of the bed and make towards the door.

As he walked, for the first time since he'd arrived, Crow realised that he was dressed in a pair of pyjamas that were obviously not his own. The clothing he'd been wearing when he collapsed were nowhere to be found. Crow assumed that they had been taken to be washed and tried not to dwell too much on the fact that someone had changed him while he was unconscious.

The corridor that greeted him when he left the room had exactly the sort of homely feel to it that Crow would have expected, had he ever put any thought to where Layton lived before. It was slightly cluttered, though less so than the room he just left had been, and instead of fossils lining the walls, there was an array of framed photos. Most of them featured Layton and Luke, but some of them also showed the woman who had been his assistant when Crow had first met him, Emmy Altava, and quite a lot of them showed a young girl with her hair tied back in a ribbon. Crow did not know who she was.

He found himself looking from one photo to the next, almost as if he was visiting an art gallery, as he walked down the corridor. This distracted him enough so that when he heard the sound of a chair scraping across the floor, it startled him and made him jump.

"I see that you're awake."

Layton had appeared, standing in the frame of one of the doors and regarding him with interest.

Crow nodded mutely.

"Come through here, then. I've prepared something light to eat, since you haven't had anything since you were brought here and I wouldn't want you to starve," said Layton, retreating back into the room.

Although his mind was filled with questions about what had come from Layton's sudden visit to see Inspector Chelmey, the mention of food caused him to realise exactly how hungry he was, so Crow followed Layton through to a sitting room, where he took to a chair in front of a small table and helped himself to some of the toast on the table without being offered.

Layton chuckled, "Careful, don't want to give yourself indigestion. My word, you eat almost as quickly as Luke did."

"What did you talk to Chelmey about?" Crow asked, through mouthfuls of toast.

"Straight to the point, I see. Can't say I blame you, given the circumstances," replied Layton, settling back in his own chair, "The Inspector and I talked at length about your situation. A lot of what was said I don't feel is appropriate to disclose to you for now, so do not press me for more than I choose to tell you."

"Go on," urged Crow, already reaching out for another slice of toast, though his eyes never left Layton.

"What you have done is unavoidably wrong," Layton said, "But I believe that you did so out of a misguided attempt to make a living and not because you ever intended any real harm. Because, as loathe as I am to admit it, you are right that London is not welcoming to outsiders who do not have qualifications. That isn't to say that I am blaming London for what you did, only you can account for your own actions, but I feel that had the situation been different, you would never have stooped to the level that you did. Because of this, I feel that it is unfair for you to not be given a second chance."

Crow could tell that Layton had practised this speech in his head.

"So you tried that on the police?" he asked.

Layton frowned, before saying, "I did not try anything on the police, young man. As when you are dealing with those who uphold the laws of our society, you treat them with the utmost respect. However, I did present my thoughts to Inspector Chelmey, along with a reminder of how you helped me greatly during the incident at Misthallery. I made him see that you are not a bad person when given the chance to do the right thing."

"He didn't clear the charges, did he?" questioned Crow, trying not to sound too hopeful.

"That is not something that a man of the law could do in good conscience. However, in light of all of the other cases of drug smugglers that are being dealt with, you are but a flake of snow on a white field and a child at that. Chelmey could not allow for someone who he knows to have breached the law go free to potentially cause harm again, but he has accepted that with the right guidance you could be made to see the errors of your ways and become a valued member of London's community," answered Layton.

"And what does that mean in plain English?" pressed Crow.

"You will be staying here under my supervision," confirmed Layton.

"What? No! You can't do that!" Crow snapped.

"I told you that your options were me or prison and unless you'd rather prison it is here that you are going to be staying for the foreseeable future. Especially since you do not have any family to vouch for you," Layton argued.

Crow sat back in the chair, allowing it all to sink in. It was… not what he'd been expecting. Just, why would someone like Hershel Layton, a celebrity but next to a stranger to him, offer to take in a nobody who he'd caught dealing drugs?

"You… Where would I stay if I lived with you? You can't be ready for someone just to stay in your house out of the blue," Crow commented, voicing the first issue that had come to mind.

"On the contrary. That room you were resting in was a spare room that Luke used to use while he stayed with me. It has been empty for some time. And if that isn't to your liking, then my daughter Flora has recently moved out, so the room she was using is also free," reasoned Layton.

"You have a daughter?" questioned Crow, figuring that must have been who the young girl in the photos was.

"Yes, I adopted her some three years after I met you. But now she is of age she was quite looking forward to venturing out into the world and making her own way," informed Layton, "But that is not the matter at hand. The matter at hand is if you will take my offer, accept the kindness the police have granted you by allowing me to do this, and stay with me. I promise that you will be well cared for and any matter of education or work that you wish to pursue will be looked into as the issues arise."

"This is a lot to take in…" Crow mumbled.

"Then I'll give you some time to think about it," said Layton, making to get up from the chair.

Before he could, Crow said, "I'll take you up on this offer, Mr. Layton. I'll stay with you. Under the condition that for the moment you don't tell the… the former members of the Black Ravens what's happened to me. You said before you were in contact with them and maybe you promised them you'd let them know how I was getting on, but for the moment, I don't want them to know about any of this until I'm ready to deal with them. Okay?"

"Very well," said Layton nodding, "And if the police receive any word about what has become of Scraps?"

"Then I do want to hear about that," Crow answered.

"I'm glad to hear that you have not given up on your friends just yet," replied Layton, smiling.

"Don't make assumptions," grumbled Crow, looking away, "And… thanks. For all this. You didn't have to."

"A gentleman does what he can to help those in need," concluded Layton.

"A gentleman must find his life extremely burdened, then," Crow retorted.

"Quite. But in the long run, it is worth it," Layton reasoned.

"I can't see how this is going to be worth anything to you in the long run, but all the same I'm… grateful for it. And I'll try not to cause you too much bother," said Crow.

Smiling, Layton commented, "Boys your age seem to find bother all on their own, so don't worry about that. And you seem to have developed quite a temper since I last saw you when you were younger, too."

Crow was about to shout that he hadn't, but realised that would have just proved Layton right, so instead replied, "Well I've seen more of the world than I had done back then."

"I hope to be able to remind you of the good side of it over time, if that is the case. But for now you should probably get yourself settled. I didn't find much in the way of belongings when they cleared out that house you were staying in, just the Black Raven outfit that I thought you'd want and have brought here on your behalf. If there's anything else, however, I can go back and look again," said Layton.

"Nah, that would be about it," Crow said, shaking his head, "When you spend your life selling junk to people, you end up not putting too much value in material objects that aren't going to feed you or keep a roof over your head. But I appreciate you bringing the Black Raven outfit here. I do kind of put some value in that."

"You're more than welcome. Now, do you want to stay in the room you're in now or would you rather move to Flora's old room?" Layton asked.

"I'm fine where I am," replied Crow. Something just felt inherently wrong about moving into a girl's room, as childish as that was to admit.

"Then I'll move all of the fossils out of there as soon as I can. Admittedly, I had been mostly using that room for storage since Luke left," Layton confessed.

"I could tell," Crow laughed, and then another thought struck him, "Um, about these pyjamas that I'm wearing…"

"Oh, don't worry, I left you as much dignity as possible when I changed you and didn't let Rosa in the room while I was doing it. Your old clothes were quite in the need of a good wash after the policemen had tackled you the other day," answered Layton.

Well, that was more awkward to find out than Crow would have liked, but regardless he pressed, "Who do… who do they belong to?"

The pyjamas were just a little too small to be for Layton himself, but definitely too large to have belonged to Luke back when he was thirteen. Unless Luke had come back to England to stay sometime recently, now that he was older, which is what Crow was presuming.

"They've never been worn, if that's what you were worried about," said Layton, sounding suddenly distant, "They were… for someone who was going to come stay with me. But then they weren't able to."

The subject sounded like a troubled one from the tone of Layton's voice.

"So you don't mind if I keep them then?" Crow checked.

"Consider them yours," confirmed Layton.

"Very well. I'll… um, get back to my room then," mumbled Crow, getting up from the seat.

"Don't be afraid to talk to me if you need to," insisted Layton, "I should be available anytime that I'm not teaching a class. Except on Tuesday afternoons. I have some business that I attend to during that time that I'd rather not be interrupted during."

"Tuesday afternoons, got it," said Crow, heading for the door, "See you later, Mr. Layton. And… thanks again."

"You're welcome, my boy."

Crow left the room, breathing out heavily when he thought that Layton couldn't hear him anymore. All this was a lot to take in and the last thing he'd expected. But considering what he'd expected was to waste away in a prison cell, Layton's kindly offer was a vast improvement. As he headed back to the room that was now his own, he found that he couldn't stop himself from wondering what had happened to Scraps, if the other boy would be caught, as well as what would become of his old friends from Misthallery if they heard where Crow was living now… Besides all that, it wasn't as if he could stay here and remain unnoticed by the world at large. Layton was bound to have loads of guests coming at all hours of the day, who would undoubtedly ask questions.

There was so much to think about.

But for now, the only certainty in Crow's life was that he'd been offered a second chance. And he knew for sure that he was not only going to take it, but he was going to prove that the Professor wasn't wrong in putting his faith in him.

Yes, that sounded like a plan.

As he settled back down into the room that was apparently his own, Crow suddenly felt a lot better about the future.


End file.
